ific speed that it was barely possible to
gauge them. That style of pitching carried big hopes for a Navy
victory!

CHAPTER XIX

WHEN THE ARMY FANS WINCED

As Darrin sent in the third ball Beckwith made a desperate sweep for
it. It was not to be his, however.

"Three strikes! Striker out!"

That broad grin had come back to Dan Dalzell's face, as he held up
the neatly mitted ball for an instant, then hurled it lazily back
to Dave Darrin.

Now, Durville came to bat, and the captain of the Army nine was
an accurate and hard hitter.

"Ball one!"

"Strike one!"

"Strike two!"

"Ball two!"

Then came a slight swish of willow against leather. Durville
had at last succeeded in just touching the ball. But it was a
foul hit, and that was all. Dan, however, was not out at the
side in time to pick that foul into his own mitten.

Durville, his face somewhat pale and teeth clenched, stood ready
for his last chance. It came, in one of Darrin's trickiest throws.
It was no use, after all. Durville missed, and Dalzell didn't.

"Strike three---striker out!"

"Prescott, you know that Navy fellow! Go after him---hammer him
all the way down the river!" groaned Durville in a low voice as
Dick came forward.

Dan's quick ears heard, however, and his grin broadened. Well
enough Dalzell knew that Darrin had a lot of box tricks secreted
that would fool even a Prescott.

But Dick was not to be rattled, at any rate. He picked up the
bat, "hefted" it briefly, then stepped up beside the plate, ready
in a few seconds after Durville had gone disconsolately back to
the bench.

"I won't try to decipher Dave's deliveries; I'll judge them by
what they look like after the ball has started," swiftly decided
Prescott.

"Ball one!"

"Ball two!"

"Strike one!"

"Strike two!"

"Crack!"

So fast did Prescott start when that fly popped, that he was nearly
half way to first base when he dropped his bat. It was only a
fly out to right field, but it was a swift one, and it struck
turf before the Navy fielder could hoof it to the spot. He caught
it up, whirled, and drove straight to first, but Prescott's toe
had struck the bag a fraction of a second before.

"Runner safe at first!" called the umpire quietly. Then the ball
went back to Dave, who now had a double task of alertness, for
Holmes held the bat at the plate, while Prescott was trying to
steal second. Well did Dave Darrin know the trickiness of both